


Vessel Alignment

by Wicker



Series: Supernatural Kink Bingo [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Dom/sub, M/M, Masochism, Painplay, all the porn, consentual masochism, lack of preparation, pressure points
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:52:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicker/pseuds/Wicker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cain has something that Castiel <i>needs.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Vessel Alignment

**Author's Note:**

> Square 19: Pressure Points.
> 
> Written for [Supernatural Kink Bingo](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/)  
> As always, thanks to my betas [Castielsstarr](http://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/works) and [What_About_The_Fish](http://archiveofourown.org/users/what_about_the_fish/works)

“What’s your color?” Cain whispered next to Castiel’s ear as he held him down, bent over the table. His knuckles flexed around his neck and dug in a little. It hurt, sure, but then there was also the feeling of Cain draped over his naked back, soft wool vest and crisp linen slacks and the buttons just above the swell of his groin that grounded him to the spot.

Castiel panted unevenly. “Green.”

“Did you prepare yourself well tonight?”

Cain had to know how that made his belly flutter in anticipation. “Yes.”

“Is there anyone who can hear us within miles?” Cain murmured, nearly inaudible.

Cas shivered as he closed his eyes and extended his senses, folding out through the remote cabin and surrounding country, catching slightly on pockets of near-consciousness. A bobcat, a few dogs, a notable alligator of venerable age. “No. No one.”

Cain’s fingers traced down his naked sides, deftly digging in under his latissimus dorsi and gouging under the muscle until the pain made Cas whimper softly.

“You know when you come into my house, little angel, you become mine. I own you now.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m here every week.” Castiel babbled, as usual giving too much information when a nod would have sufficed.

Cain prodded at his kidneys with his thumbs, digging in hard, pressing the sensitive organs until the surrounding muscles of his shell twitched and screamed agony.

 _This_ was why Castiel came here. To accentuate the division between him and the dead man whose body he’d kept. To cement them together, and tie him to Jimmy’s flesh. He mewled and squeezed the edges of the table with his hands.

He could not remember a physical form before this one. He had always been _the angel_ Castiel, and yet even a half-dozen years in, Jimmy’s body still found ways to surprise him.

Cain bit down on his trapezius suddenly and brutally, sinking his teeth in far enough to draw blood. The old knight of hell moaned softly. This wasn’t at all a favor that he was doing for Castiel; he was certainly enjoying this, too.   

The act of penetration wasn’t strictly necessary, but Castiel knew Cain enjoyed seating himself within him and pinning Castiel down with every available appendage.

Cain let him go, and Castiel whimpered; feeling disembodied and colorless. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Come back,” he whined softly, craving Cain’s grounding presence.

He had unzipped and slid his trousers down his hips, and returned to drape over Cas again soon enough. The texture of the metal zipper made goose-bumps break out across Castiel’s thighs. He felt a twitching smile on the lips held against the angel’s shoulder. “Shh, I’m right here.”

He made a little noise of contentment and bit his lip as Cain shoved himself inside quickly, not bothering with stretching or preparing his lover. He trusted that Cas had done as much preparation as he’d wanted, which frankly wasn’t much.

Cas yelped and rode out the sparking pain that rolled up his spine as Cain bottomed out, unyielding and huge inside him. He panted and spread his legs wider, his cock twitched in helpless interest trapped beneath him where it swelled further, throbbing gently. He had learned to tolerate the messages and communications of the body he inhabited, but couldn’t help thinking about it as a separate entity, despite sharing his vessel’s arousal.

It was exactly this sort of overanalyzing jibberish that the angel wished to drown out. “Please,” he begged, even though Cain wasn’t holding anything back. “Oh, please, make me.”

Cain reached up under Castiel’s chin and pulled his head back, bending his spine harshly and nestling his soft, tousled hair against his neck.

Castiel could barely breathe, his arching back creaked and locked, and his legs trembled. Cain’s hips pumped mechanically, sliding him mercilessly through the tight ring of muscle.

Cain knew what Castiel needed. This was the kind of magic that Cain perhaps didn’t understand fully—or maybe he did, and that was why he was so adept at it. Castiel hadn’t been able to comprehend the depth and immediacy of the physical sensations his vessel communicated. He was so easily overwhelmed and confounded by something as base as this, savage hips snapping against his ass and his breath restricted by a squeezing fist.

Tears ran down his cheeks and his cock dribbled messily against the prim, embroidered tablecloth. When he made noise—when he was able to—it sounded like bitten-off shrieking. It sounded like he was falling. It sounded like he was dying. In reality, it was closer to a birth.

“I see you, angel,” Cain growled in his ear. “You’re coming apart for me, aren’t you?”

His vessel’s eyes—no, _his_ eyes—rolled upwards as he seized and came hard, unable to withhold or draw it out any longer. He cried softly.

“There you are,” Cain comforted, smoothing Castiel’s shoulder. He slowed for a moment to savor the shudder and spasm around his cock and then rode Cas’ boneless body, shoving the table a fraction of an inch with every snap of his hips.

Castiel shut his eyes and felt his body’s columns and foundations respond to every push, every arc and thrust. It was simply sublime; a gift to be rooted to the material plane in such a way.

Cain roared loud when he came. It seemed more of a primal act for him—a roar announcing his dominance—than one of pleasure. He barely shuddered as he ground to a halt and coated Castiel’s insides with his own release. Cain was standoffish and unaffected as he withdrew from his body, returning to his stony demeanor abruptly. He passed him a hand towel with a cartoon ear of corn on it.

A smile so faint that it might be imaginary quirked at the corner of Cain’s mouth. “See you next Sunday, angel?”

“Yes, of course.”


End file.
